Fresh Breath

Well, it’s been over a year since he moved out. The day after the super bowl was one year. I read somewhere that, much like surviving the first year of marriage, once you survive the first year of divorce things get easier. You aren’t as surprised by the differences that happen at the holidays. The anniversaries start to become dull and distant. I’ll have to let you know next year if that is the truth.

That day seems like just yesterday and a lifetime ago at the same time. I can remember each detail like a snap shot, still feel the jagged whole in my heart, still remember fracturing into a billion pieces, and still remember the struggle to catch my breath as if my lungs may never fill with enough air again.

But lungs are funny organs. Slightly different than the heart…lungs can actually sprout new growth after damage. Meaning, not only can the size increase, but you can really grow new tissue to replace what has been lost.

And that is what I feel like I’ve been doing. I’ve been growing a new me. Granted, still a work in progress, but my friends aren’t breathing for me anymore. I am fully engaged in my own breaths. And the breaths are no longer for simple survival, they are for living life.

So, I continue to put one foot in front of the other. Continue to take my next breath. Continue to take care of all that needs to be taken care of. I just do it. And each day is slightly (just slightly, but still) better than the one before. So I’m looking forward to tomorrow and letting yesterday stay where it is.

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